Absent

Usually I'm not here
In the late
In the down
But I used to...

I miss them.
Miss the swirl and rock
Of my contents
Their painted faces
And the oddity of their existence
Like the ones across from me
Attempting to blend
In their Williamsburg wear
Of patched jeans
Grungy
Dingy colors
And worn out shoes
Their
Hip wear...

Usually
I'm not here
I'm sleeping;
Dreaming of fitting in
A square peg
To a tubular hole
Denting it's sides
Placating it's truth
To achieve
Even an imperfect meld
To the shapes of perfected molds
That would deem me
And mine
A part of the plan
At least beyond the one
Only we could understand...
©2010clarencecbess